


What Happens if I Get Inducted in a Cult Right Out of College?

by silver_moon_howler



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: All the Avatars are Friends, All the entities have their own cults, All the entities work together, Alternate Universe - Cults, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Evil, Alternate Universe - Monsters, Alternate Universe - No Apocalypse, Archivist Jonathan Sims, Beholding Avatar Basira Hussain, Beholding Avatar Melanie King, But not scary horror cults they're scary normal cults, But this isnt scary, Everybody else gets together, Everyone is evil except for Martin, F/F, F/M, Gen, Gerard Keay Lives, Gerard is an Avatar of the books and it shows, He's a sweet summer child, Hunt Avatar Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Its a wacky rom com with cannon typical violence, M/M, Martin is terrified, Monster Jonathan Sims, Multi, Other, Pre-Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims - Freeform, Protective Michael, Sassy Martin Blackwood, These dumbasses get a slow burn, Who Doesn't Eat People
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:07:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23869495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_moon_howler/pseuds/silver_moon_howler
Summary: *an au in which there is no apocalypse and all the entities work together to feed each other-which means all the Avatars can bond over their shitty eldritch bosses over bar nights*Martin is 70% sure he isn't working for a cult. But his boss's friends are unsettling and his boss..he refuses to tell Martin everything about what hes working for.Daisy just wants to get Basira's attention.And Michael is determined to save Gerard from his mother.
Relationships: Basira Hussain/Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas, Gerard Keay/Michael, Jack Barnabas/Agnes Montague, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Nikola Orsinov/Jane Prentiss, Oliver Banks/Michael "Mike" Crew
Comments: 8
Kudos: 121





	1. First day-POV Martin Blackwood

For all the dismissal and ostracism, Martin has to admit, the Archives were gorgeous. Like a library without any books, although Matin assumed the books were in the back-it was an archive after all. The guided tour was a dull affair, the girl giving him the standard walk through was droning on and on about the architect of the building. The name was vaguely familiar and it kept tugging at Martin’s throat, running off his skin like it was slippery. He didn’t care about this man but apparently his mind wanted to know more about him, the feeling didn’t sit right with Martin. Cold and rubbery in his chest. 

That was when Martin first began to realise he had gone to the wrong booth during that Temporary work fair.  
“Excuse me, Ms?” The secretary turned around and Martin was struck with the knowledge that this woman was younger than him and had a job more stable than his and seemed perfectly normal. Martin decided he didn’t like being struck with any knowledge so begrudgingly he asked,  
“Will I be meeting anyone I’ll be working with today?” The girl bit her knuckle, looking down in thought, “Uh-’M not sure, Sasha is visiting with the Spiral today, a transfer from here works there now.”  
“Uh huh,” Martin said for lack of a better word that could emphasize how lost he was in this conversation. “And of course,” she continued, “Jon is never available, don’t ask unless he specifically tells you he needs a bit of your time.” Martin knew who Jon was, a friend of his was working the recruitment booth at the fair Martin’s college was hosting. She gushed and gushed about how Jon was behind several scathing remarks and a vivid description of an overall shitty person she had grown to be fond of. Martin was not interested in meeting Jon for as long as he could stand it. 

“Hey,” the girl called over to a man bent over a clipboard, the words, ‘Artifacts,’ we printed neatly on a sticker buttoned to the man’s lapel, “do you know where Tim is?” The man flushed, running a dark palm over his face, “I’m not sure where Tim is, sorry?” He ducked his head from the conversation and scurried off.  
“Uhm-what’s with him, is he alright,” Martin asked. The woman shrugged, “He doesn’t want anyone to know but he and Tim hook up after work, but like everyone in the office knows.” Her pocket buzzed and the woman pulled out a phone, “Ah! Tim just posted a picture of him in the Strand. He’s probably doing research for a statement then.” She nodded and turned back to Martin, “That’s what you’ll be doing for the next six months. When Jon asks you he’ll send you off to some place for back up information and then you’ll record the information-it’s a whole process that I’m sure you wouldn’t understand if I just word vomited alluv’ that on you-oh!” She yanked Martin over to the corner down a vast hallway, “There’s Melanie, you met her at the fair, I trust?” 

Martin craned his neck to look at all the portraits of imposing white males with the Archive’s history printed below their plaques. The eyes were what really drew Martin in, the eyes followed you everywhere. And that’s when Martin began to feel like he was being watched.  
“Melanie,” the woman called, hailing Melanie over, “The Temp is here.” She paused, releasing Martin’s sleeve and turning back to the man, “I am so sorry, just pause for a second.” She sucked in a breath and shouted, “Melanie!” She began to stop over to the woman, gnashing her teeth and chanting her name over the heads of several baffled spectators. 

Martin shrunk closer to the portraits and avoided the eyes of passing watchers. He shrunk into his hoodie, “It’s just the crowd,” he promised himself.  
“That’s what I thought on the first day,” someone said. Martin squeaked, jumping back from the voice. He tossed his hands over his chest protectively, “St-stay back.” Martin paused as the lash he expected did not come.  
“You’re jumpy, aren’t you?” The man grinned through a mat of dark tangled hair that fell over his face, “Funny, you’re going to lose that reflex here, real quick.”  
“Who’re you,” Martin demanded, stepping farther away from punk’s lovechild with maladaptive coping habits. He reeked of alcohol and smoke. At first Martin thought it was smoke from a cigarette but the underlying scent of dirt wasn’t there, it was just smoke. “I’m Gerard Keay, Senior Archival assistant, you can call me Gerry,” Martin’s mouth twisted into a grimace, “Are you alright, you look like you’ve been in an accident, there’s dirt all over your clothes,” he wrinkled his nose and the layer of grime on his coat. Gerry’s smirk fell,  
“Do you think I’m dirty?” Martin backed away, stammering, “I mean-”  
“Because I was thinking that but I thought maybe I could get at least one more day out of it, but then my mom said I couldn’t use the washer until she was done, so I didn’t have any clothes and than,” he shrugged, “It’s just a whole dead but I can’t get my own apartment because she needs assistance, but she was the one who got herself into that mess in the first place!” Martin nodded, once again lost in the one sided conversation.

“Tell me you didn’t ask about his mother.” Martin turned to see Melanie, carrying a handful of large books.  
“No, I didn’t-Hey, uh Melanie!” He rushed forward, “It’s so great to see you again, I was just wondering who I would be working with.” Melanie shrugged her books into Gerard’s arms with a frown, “So far you’ve met Gerry and me, who else have you heard about?” Martin struggled to unknot his stomach, “I-uh, well, I heard about Tim and a Sasha, as well as Jon. But that’s it.” Melanie hummed, “Well that’s pretty much it, other than Basira. Our happy little Archival family.” She snickers at her own joke, “Come on, we’ll get you set up downstairs.” 

Martin followed after the two of them, for a second he considered that maybe they were a couple, they walked so closely together it seemed so intimate. And then he heard the whispers and realized they were arguing silently trying to keep Martin unaware. Martin strained his ear to hear over the crowds.  
“What’s been going on with you lately, you’re nothing like you used to be, before you were quiet and sullen now you’re moody and sullen-Sasha tells me you stared into your coffee for a full hour during your lunch break.”  
“I’m fine.” They turned away from each other and stomped farther ahead, leaving Martin in a confused frenzy to catch up.


	2. I hate him-Jon's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon has not decided what exactly Martin is. He is sure Elias sent him to rage fury on Jon but so far Elias has yet to give any master plan of their new temp. Temp, the Eye does not employ temps. Jon doesn't know Martin's purpose but he is sure of one thing, he loathes Martin.

February 8th, 2016; 2:34  
“-Now Nikola wants the Gwydir Forest, so I have to hear Peter bitch about how what would’ve been a perfect place for his family to work from during the summer, but I argued that they already had their place in England and overstretching could put them at risk for-” Jon pinched the bridge of his nose,  
“Do you have the statement I asked for, Elias?” Ellias paused,  
“Well, I was getting to that-so anyway, the Lukas’ want me to send someone in there-”  
“Not it,” Jon mumbled.  
“-And investigate what they’re doing down there. Of course, I’d wager they’re cooking up a new-” 

“Scuse me, Boss?” Melanie rapped on the door, “The Temp is here, if you wanted to, you know, meet him.” Elias sneered, stomping over to the door and thrusting it open, “We’re a bit busy at the moment.” Jonathan scrambled at the opportunity to get Elias to shut up, “Of course we aren’t Elia, come on. I have time to meet one Temp, where is he?” Melanie laned back from the doorway and peered into the hallway, “He’s coming,” she assured them. They waited a moment. “He’s coming,” Melanie assured herself. Elias pinched the bridge of his nose, “Melanie don’t tell me you have managed to lose the only Temporary Worker we have.” Jonathan snickered,  
“I doubt he’ll be a temporary worker for long if he stumbles on something he’s not supposed to.” They heard the sound of footsteps and then a ruffled man sped around the corner bumping into Melanie. The man stammered, ringing his hands, “That was my fault, I’m sorry.” 

His dark face was flushed a sallow pale, he was a very shot kid, in Jon's. Softening at the middle but there was no doubt he was plenty active. His shaking fingers pushed wire rimmed glasses up his kind face. He needed a haircut, Jon decided, but who was Jon to judge. He pushed back his own tangled brown hair.  
“Hello Martin,” Jon introduced himself, “I’m your new boss, Jonathan Sims.” Martin nodded,  
“You already know who I am..but I’m Martin Blackwood, I’m grateful for the opportunity to work here.”  
Not for long, Jon thought to himself. Melanie stepped out of the door frame, whistling Martin over, “I’m going to give him a tour of the rest of the building, you guys stay out of trouble,” Melanie joked. As they left Jon heard Martin ask Melanie if Jon and Elias were a thing. Elias burst into laughter, “He’s certainly something.” Jon sighed, rubbing a scarred hand over his face, he had gotten it the first time he had met Jude Perry and asked too many questions. “You’re perfect for the role of the archivist,” she told Jon over a drink the next night. Jon walked back to his chair slumping into his seat. “He’s not Archival material, I’m going to have to send him out to research spiders and he’ll keel over shrieking.”  
“That’s not true,” Elias argued, “He likes spiders.” Jon glared half heartedly over his shoulder, “Can I record my statement now Elias?” For all the wealth the institute projected they still gave Jon the smallest office they could find and Jon wanted to work in his small office alone. Elias smoothed back his gelled grey hair and turned on his heels,  
“Fine,” he grumbled, “If you must, I have to debrief Basira on a Hunt case anyway” The air around Jon crackled and the door slammed shut without Elias so much as moving. When Jon looked up he was alone again. 

Jon banged his head against the table grunting. Jon had had nothing before this job, and Elias knew that. He knew that Jon was hooked. Elias had introduced Jon to most of his closest friends and opened up connections for a life that could make life affordable. No matter how many times, Elias bossed him around Jon would always fall back in line the moment it looked like his boss needed him. Jon turned back the recorder and groaned,  
“That man,” he told the recorder,” needs a good lay.” The recorder could not respond audibly but Jon felt the agreement in his voice. 

“Right, well we better get this statement down,” he peered over his glasses, “On their short time in ownership of a mannequin head-oh brother…note to self, ask Nikola about this next time we go out for drinks.” He huffed beginning to read the statement.

\-----  
February 11th 2016, 11:58

The next time Jon saw Martin it was during lunch break. Melanie had left with Gerard earlier that day to assist on a visit to the Spiral’s headquarters so he didn’t trust anyone to bring his tea to him. The breakroom was by no means humbling-as far as Jon knew the institute had never experienced budget cuts in his life. There were at the minimum, thirty flavors of teas that were all subtypes of actual flavors of tea.  
“Who even drinks Ginseng tea these days,” Jon grumbled, reaching back to the black tea-the organizer had obviously created the whole system to piss off Jon. They obviously didn’t understand the difference between Earl Grey with bergamot and Russian Earl Grey. 

Jon had successfully brewed his own cup of tea and turned back toward the table to sit down when tragedy struck. Martin collided with him before Jon could realize what happened, he watched with horror as his plastic mug fell to the floor, bouncing off the tile. Jon looked up to see Martin stammering over its mortal remains,  
“Oh my g-I am so sorry,” Martin was chewing on his thumb, “Here let me help.” Jon sneered, pulling away from Martin’s attempts to help, “You’ve already helped well enough. Haven’t you?” Martin stood there, dumbstruck as Jon moped back to his office, tealess. 

He pulled out the next statement and began to read about a woman stuck in her fridge. He sighed, filing it under the Buried.  
“After Ms. Katherine Seymour was found in her fridge she was put under hospice care to treat severe dehydration. The nurse’s report a fear of oppression surrounding them when they treated Ms. Seymour. And after she was released Ms. Seymour would make this statement in light of the new bruises forming on her chest-when examined by the doctor, they claimed the bruises were similar to that of a cave-in victim. Four weeks after making this statement Ms. Seymour was reported missing, two weeks after that she was found at the bottom of a construction ditch in a hole she dug with her own hands.” Jon chuckled, “Looks like the Buried got a good meal out of Ms. Seymour. I wonder what she did, suppose she was just unlucky.” Jon shrugged, “that’s life, I suppose” he told the recorder and he could feel the recorder agree. 

“Well, I’m starved, I’m thinking of getting Korean barbecue with Melanie tonight, she invited me but I kind of just want to go to sleep and wash this whole day off of my chest.” Jon packed away his things, “No, no, I understand that I need to get out more but is it worth the additional stress.” Jon sat back in his seat facing the recorder, “Yes, I mean that Martin kid, who does he think he is! We don’t even hire temporary workers, they either come here to work permanently or they feed the Eye.” Jon slumped back in the seat and crossed his arms, “This is Elias’ fault, I can feel it, he must’ve known how aggravating the kid is and picked him out to piss me off.” Silence stuttered in the room and Jon could hear the static of the recorder rolling, he sneered at it, “I am not the one being cynical!” 

Jon grumbled, rising to his feet.  
“That’s enough out of you, we’re going to dinner tonight with Melanie. And I don’t want to hear one word about Martin from you.” He stuffed the recorder in his bag and the only thing the recorder got was the sound of fabric running over the speakers. 

\----------

The number one rule of bar nights was that there were no weapons allowed. This rule had been broken a whole of eight times in the club of current Avatars. Once by Julia Montauk during rugby season after getting in a losing bet,  
“You’re a hunter for god's sakes,” Daisy reminded her, “You don’t need a weapon, you are a weapon!” She says this as she forgets that in 2011 she had been caught smuggling a gun into a pub after getting into an argument with Mikaele Salesa over an artifact that clearly belonged to the hunt.  
“I’ve got to make a living,” he argued, and Daisy asked why he was invited anyway because Mikaele had no patron and if anything belonged to the End the way he willingly sent the objects off to doom innocent people. And that was when Nikola reminded Daisy that all of them sent people off to their doom for their patron so really that just meant that Mikaele was especially one of them. The third break in the offense was surprisingly not by a hunter at all but by Tom Haan only days after the warrant for his arrest was released. The Flesh’s organization had brought him back to an unknown slaughterhouse in the southern American states but Tom had insured he would be on time for weekly drinks but being paranoid he had brought a butcher’s knife and hid it in his backpack. The cops had arrived to break up a drunken brawl and recognised Tom from the news. This resulted in another fight that would leave the entire pub streaked with viscera, they all enjoyed the opportunity to fight but Tom was not asked to come back for any of the upcoming barnights. That didn’t stop him from coming every once and awhile. Three other occasions came from Nikola herself who found that she enjoyed the talking better than anything actually served at the bar-but she did manage to find some sorority visiting from the U.S once in a while. All other occasions were split between Jude Perry and Mike Crew who had gotten in a fight over whether they should order mild chicken strips or extra spicy. 

Tonight everyone that could come was sitting in the corner of a tourist attraction pub that was over ninety years old and had survived the Blitz. Daisy was debating with Mike and Julia if the table wanted chips or a nacho platter. While Jon was taking Mikaele’s statement on a fridge that he had bought from a woman just before her death that supposedly transported you above time all the while ignoring Nikola protest that there is no such thing as above time and that if anything when someone loses time it's because of a shield and not because they were put above time. Oliver helpfully supplied Nikola with pointers on how to fix the face she was wearing as it slipped from the plastic shell and would occasionally pipe in about seeing the ‘fridge woman’s’ apparition in his dreams. 

“Wait,” Nikola asked, “I’m not sure I understand, you mean to tell me that she got out of the buried and stayed alive that long afterward?”  
“I’m sure it’s because we needed a statement,” Jon assured her, “Buried doesn’t exactly have a gallery of avatars lining up to tell us about their inner workings so they send what they can as per the deal.” The unspoken deal between all entities that if they all cooperated together and put down all conquests to the Eye than any Entity could acquire help to feed them if they so choose. It was less of the entities' decision and more of the Avatars-it was nicer to work together than to oppose each other even if one entity couldn’t stand the other. 

“Nikola,” Mike called, “Tell Julie that olives are despicable and vile things that mustn’t be put on nachos.” Nikola’s “face” warped into a twisted grin and Oliver dived to keep the edges from peeling, “Okay,” she replied breathy and turned to Julie with taxidermists fake eyes, “Julie, olivers are despicable and vile things that mustn’t be put on nachos.” Julie turned back to Mike to protest arguing that Nikola doesn’t get a say because she doesn’t eat.  
“I do eat actually,” Nikola butt in, “I eat Hunters like you that hurt my feelings.” Julie glared her down with predator’s eyes, “You wouldn’t dare.”  
“Okay,” Daisy said, throwing her arm over Julie to appease her, “Let’s just get the nachos with olives on the side, does that sound good?” No one protested so Daisy turned to the baffled waiter, who couldn’t be sure if she should focused on the two burly woman dressed in matching outfits, the four men, two being pale and short and covered with scars or the two dark, dower man that looked forlorn at her presence. Or perhaps she should worry about the mechanical figure, smiling at the waitress with loose skin hanging from her doll-like body.  
“We’ll take the nacho platter, extra large with a bowl of olives on the side and seven beers all around.” The waitress cowered behind her notepad and Nikola took that to be a question of why were only six of them drinking,  
“I’m going sober,” she giggled. 

It was no small wonder that the pub had insisted that they leave when everyone else had left in a hushed terror or fumbled out nearly swallowing on their tongue. They were walking together down the London roads beginning to enter the West End and Nikola was insisting they see something called the Piccadilly Circus despite Oliver protesting that there was no actual circus happening. But Nikola had threatened to skin someone so they had all ended up staring at a neon board practically smash faced. Nikola was beginning to explain to Daisy that they weren’t lost; they were just taking a pit stop when a man bumped into Nikola hard. She remained flat footed on the ground but her face had been knocked ever so slightly to the right causing it to ooze from the plastic giving her the appearance of a skeleton wearing loose skin. 

The man cried and Julie was on him in a moment, pulling him into an alleyway to smother his cries for help. The group followed behind her, cautiously looking around for anyone who could have noticed the man. Daisy placed her hand around his throat to silence him,  
“What you guys want to do with him,” she asked. Mikaele excused himself from the conversation saying homicide was not his particular cup of tea and he’d rather be back at home. Jon shrugged, “We’re not going to pressure you or anything, you can go back home, we’ll see you next week.” They bid Mikaele goodbye and it was then Mike suggested they drop him off the side of a building.  
“You always say that,” Nikola grumbled, “How ‘bout some adventure. Ruffle him up a bit!”  
“We’re not flaying him,” Daisy shot back, “That’s been three times so far where we do what you want.”  
“That's because my way is elegant,” Nikola said, “I recycle, give back to the world.”  
“More like give back to you,” Mike huffed out. 

“Jon!” Everyone froze, turning to the mouth of the alley where a peppered, blonde man shined his flashlight down the street calling out for Jon. “Jon!” Nikol pulled a corkscrew from her pocket and received glares from the rest of the group, “What,” she pouted, “Technically not a weapon.” Jon hushed her, stuffing a hoodie in her arms, “Cover up, now!” He reached forward to the struggling man and punched him in the square of their jaw, the crack drew Martin’s attention down the alley where he saw seven figures huddled together, one of them sprawled in a woman’s arms. More importantly he saw Jon. 

“Jon,” Martin cried out with relief, “I thought I had heard you.” From behind Jon could hear his tape recorder whirring to life in his satchel. Either that meant something supernatural was about to happen or something Jon would want to listen back to later. Just in case, Jon pulled a switchblade from his back pocket. The no weapons rule was more of a guideline anyway.Martin approached Jon cautiously,  
“Jon, are you alright?” He looked past Jon, “Are those your friends ?” Jon nodded, “We just finished drinking, we were all about to go home.” Irritation flared in Jon, this man had just seen someone in the crowd and followed them around yelling at them expecting said person to be their friend. Martin seemed to deflate at Jon’s tone, “Oh-well, I was just, I was finishing up at the library.” 

“What were you doing at the library,” Nikola asked. Jon silently cursed the Stranger wishing Nikola had gone back home to Jane and butted out of Jon’s business. Martin stammered for a bit until Jon sighed, “It doesn’t matter, Nik’, come on we have to get Gerry home.” Martin brightened, “Gerry?” His eyes flicked to their victim, “Is that Gerard can I say hi?” Daisy stepped in, “He’s blacked out, can’t say hi to anyone. You can ask him about it tomorrow.” Jon nodded, beginning to herd Martin out of the alley, “Everything’s alright here.” Martin dredged his heels into the ground, “So do these guys work at the institute I haven’t seen them around.” Mike scoffed, piping up from the back of the group, “We work for other organizations, Jon is the only one who belongs to the institute.” Martin nodded, “Oh-I-uhm, see..” he coughed nervously and turned to leave, “Well, I guess I better be off than.” Jon nodded, “I guess.” 

Martin turned the corner and they were left alone with the griping mortal.  
“He was sweet,” Nikola said, “Very starry-eyed.” Jon rolled up his dress-shirt sleeve, tucking his glasses away into his pockets, “I hate him. Now, are we going to kill this guy or not?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Martin is still unsure of Jon but he's trying to be nice. Up next Basira takes a trip to the Hunter's domain in order to investigate a string of undocumented attacks.


	3. In the woods somewhere-Basira POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basira has been traveling ever since she joined the institute. That's nothing new, but this hunter she's meeting with, she seems new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I do not wish to romance cults in anyway, shape or form. Basira is being manipulated to join an organization that displays cult like tendencies. And I am aware I am writing about a cult, reach out to anyone if you suspect you're involved in something that is not healthy for you or others and remember you're not as guilty as you think you actually are.

February 8th 2016; 7:13  
Someone had been scaring humans to death. When Elias had sent Basira out to investigate the bodies she hadn’t found the image she was expecting. Scared to death, it almost sounded comical, like an image you’d find in a graphic novel. The figure white haired and wild eyed, clawing at the air above them. Elias hadn’t used the term right then, they weren’t scared to death. They were chased to death, the coroner had stated much to his shock, that the hearts had stopped or they had suffered from strokes. The overall report was that these people had suffered from sheer exhaustion. The first responder Basira interviewed claimed that it appeared each and every person had just stood up from their sleep in the middle of the night in whatever night clothes they were in and just ran.

“Maybe three or four had thought to slip on shoes, but the feet were covered in blisters from the lack of socks that had donned. The rest of them..” he trailed off, “My buddy from the military joked that they used to make you run until your feet were stumps. These people, they were-” he trailed off. And he hadn’t needed to explain, autopsy had shown plenty. On any other day Basira would have pushed it aside as the hunt just collecting their feed for whatever quota they possessed. Wasn’t her problem, as soon as someone joined the list their entire family and friends by extension were off limits unless they attacked an entity directly. But Elias was miffed that the hunt hadn’t thought to file any of the paperwork for the attack. It’s a compulsive need the institute has and it couldn’t stop filing the information anymore than the Hunt could stop hunting. So Basira was tasked with an investigation, which automatically made her want to go and investigate for All Seeing. And boy did she investigate, the evidence left trail after trail and it reeked of the certain musk all Hunter’s had. The only surviving victim had fallen into a pool while running and was dragged to the hospital where she was sedated until the mania left her. 

“I met a man,” she told Basira, “Tall and Dark, with deep red eyes that looked like the soil of a forest clearing. When he opened his mouth I saw pointed canines that glinted under what little light there was in my room. Everything he said to me made me yearn to open the back window and hurt.” If the story got any more obvious Basira would have insisted she go back labeling the whole thing as a neglect to fill out the proper paperwork and she would have Elias scold whoever wasn’t too busy chasing their own tail back in the Hunt’s HQ. But she needed confirmation, the urge to know drove Basira to the small field outside of Lancashire. God that pissed Basira off, a near four hour drive just to talk to some damn mutt that may or may not appear.

Basira pulled her car up to the field. There was nothing special about it, at first Basira had worried she was in the wrong location-maybe Elias had written the coordinates wrong. Unnerved, Basira loaded out of her car and started to walk down the hill to a tree rooted at the center to get a closer look. As she walked, her hand hovered over an old stone wall that led directly to the tree. ‘It must be a border,’ she thought to herself. But no, the wall started at the edge of the road and led directly into the tree. Basira looked back at her car, still there. She looked up toward the sky, nothing odd about it. Basira stuffed her hand back in her pocket and began to circle the tree-nothing supernatural either. She sighed, grumbling to herself about how Elias was always shit at directions and this was not going to waste her day. If it didn’t pan out, Basira could always just head to a bar and find someone to spend-

She paused, crouching in front of the old wall. She hadn’t taken the time to look at the bricks before but standing there Basira could almost see something in the etchings. Basira edged closer, brushing a layer of grime from the highest brick.  
‘To all who wander here, call your desire.’ Basira groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose.  
“I swear,’ she mumbled, the Hunt had to be the most dramatic group she had ever met. When Basira had stood up the air was filled with the rot of copper or bloating skin under the sun. Under the shade of the crooked oak Basira cleared her throat and called out loud,  
“Hello?” There was no response, of course there isn’t, she reasoned. Basira hadn’t callen out her desire, why she had come in her hunt for this desire. “I’ve come to confirm some paperwork with a Hunter, I’m from the Institute.” Basira stepped back, gripping her purse tightly. Nothing happened. 

She blinked, turning back to her car but there was nothing there. Just the same stone wall she had just been crouching before. Basira turned again and still all she could was the stone walls. She was boxed in but surprisingly she still felt free. Basira moved forward to touch the wall and it crumbled at her presence. Behind the wall stood an asian woman stood dressed in a brown leather trench coat, and black leather gloves. She grinned at Basira with teeth filed down to a point. She wore her long hair up in a bun, a pinkened scar cut through her eyebrow. 

“Lovely day, it is,” the woman greeted. Basira nodded, stepping forward curtly. Her heels wobbled in the loose earth under foot, the whole air smelled of Petrichor or freshly tilled earth.  
“I’m with the Institute,” Basira told her. The woman nodded,  
“I know, My name’s Daisy.” Basira raised her brow, “Rather delicate name for a hunter, my name’s Basira” The Hunters were rarely enemies with any of the entities. Ask any Avatar and they could tell you about a friend they have from the Hunt. They made it their jobs to keep order between the organizations and take out any unwanted threats from the outside world that would want to play the hero. “It’s a nickname,” Daisy explained lamely, she shifted her stance-the stance of a predator, and asked Basira if she would like to come in. Basira nodded curtly, walking through the wet earth as best she could. Daisy turned around and the undercut design in her hair of a wolf’s gaping maw did not escape Basira’s notice, neither was the fact that Daisy was completely bare footed. God, Basira would much rather be barefooted right now, she wanted to run into the forest and wear flannel and go shooting or drinking. Anything other than paperwork and pantsuits.

Walls opened up to a large forest. If there was an end Basira could not see it, everywhere she looked there was the thrum of life. The trum of hunt in a cyclic for prey, forever to be chasing with no end. The End could not touch this place. There was always the hunt. 

Daisy brought Basira further into the forest where they passed many other members, training together, running together, fighting together. They approached a clearing, through the forest mist Basira could see flickers of more people, some of them she recognized from the cover of stray national geographics she had picked up before going to the dentist. Daisy sat down in a circle of mushrooms, Basira sat across from her holding her purse in her lap.  
“I just need you to sign some paperwork, it doesn’t have to be a whole..” a wolf patted from inside the forest and curled beside Daisy. Basira blinked dumbly as a shriek bubbled underneath her tongue, they got pet wolves! All Basira got as a pet were dust bunnies that had collected on top of statements. Daisy threaded her hands in the wolf’s fur.  
“Of course, but I’m quite sure Robert signed off on all the most recent attacks. He told me he went down to the institute himself and filed everything.”  
“He missed one, I guess,” Basira told Daisy, “We have a case in Essex that’s been rattling the local police.” Basira pulled a file from her purse, setting it on her lap. She pulled out the crime scene photos and presented them to Daisy. Daisy’s mouth puckered into a bitter O, her brows starting to furrow.  
“Montauk,” she yelled into the undergrowth. A man wearing a trenchcoat the exact same as Daisy’s stepped out from the low hanging trees, his dark skin was speckled with paling in the pigment.  
“Did you authorize this?” She showed the pictures to the man, frowning. The man shook his head, baring his pointed teeth, “I haven’t touched anywhere outside of the U.S since last august.” Basira frowned, “August really? Is it possible someone just went ahead without the proper clearing?” Daisy waved the man away, “It is possible,” she murmured into her knuckle as she flipped through each picture, “But if they did it means we have a rogue avatar on our hands.” Basira’s blood curdled, the last rogue avatar hadn't ended well for any of the organizations. 

There had been some minor haggling but soon decisions were made on how the other organizations would be told and Daisy sent Basira on her way back to the institute after putting the task on her own shoulders.. Basira was glad-any additional work and she would have collapsed on top of her achingly stiff designer heels that Elias had insisted was part of the dress code. Besides, an assignment in France was already printed on Basira’s agenda and there wasn’t enough time for her to lodge a note on rogue avatars, alert Elias and pack for a trip to a sect part of the Flesh’s organization. Jon was apparently no use on the subject of complaining, not that Basira was complaining really but still, whenever she tried to just vent just a little she was met with a passive sympathy that comes from a man that’s experienced so much worse than she has and Basira can’t help but feel bad. 

She remembers coming to the organization three years after Jon had. Jon had filled the position of the last archivist who hadn’t been indoctrinated in that well. That’s the word Jon used, indoctrinated. That was the one thing that had really scared Basira at first, they were very upfront about how manipulative they were. They always told her what she had signed up for, incidentally.  
“So you’ve joined the cult,” Tim would say to her. Or, “When can I expect to see you at the next compound meeting,” Sasha would joke. They knew what they had joined, no one had known it at first of course but once you started to realise you began to understand that you didn’t want to leave, they showered you with gifts and they would always tell you how much they needed you. Of course the first time Jon mentioned the organization's more violent tendencies, Basira had gone on line and looked up cult activity and what to avoid. And the first thing that was printed above in the list was, “You’re never right unless you coincide with what they think is right.” Every story that Basira read from survivors talked about the freaky stuff they did because their church made it seem like they couldn’t do anything else for fear of being cast away or forgotten. Basira didn’t feel that way. 

The first time she had walked in on Jon feeding she had nearly reached for a gun on her belt that wasn’t there but instead Jon shot forward and grabbed her arm. He begged her not to go and that he could explain if she listened. And she listened and she insisted that he stop, when he explained that he couldn’t stop without dying Basira had stayed home for weeks and refused to meet his eye every time she had to be in the same room. But then they had maneuvered her into taking a statement, her free will had vanished and was replaced with the need to know more. She had tracked down the statement giver and insisted he tell it again. The next day, Basira had a page on signs of addiction pulled up next to signs of cult activity. 

And Basira knows, god does she know how much of her former self she’s given up. Or has she? Basira still feels exactly like she did when she first got signed on. And she doesn’t feel like she doesn’t want any of this, how much of this is just herself giving in to a baser instinct and how much of this is the Eye, or the Web or any of them tugging at her heartstrings. 

It doesn’t matter anymore, her life has been better. She's been in better health, she’s never felt greater emotionally and she feels like everyday-no matter how tiring is going to be the best one yet. Basira suspects that the work is Elias’s way of helping her cover up her guilt with exhaustion until she’s ready. Jon says he did the same thing with him. France will be fun, they’re always fun. For once Basira kind of wants something bad to happen to her just so she’ll know that she hasn’t given up her humanity for a pleasant life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Supplemental; 
> 
> Thank you everyone who has sent me kudos and a special shoutout to everyone who bookmarked. 
> 
> Your kudos helps me write additional oneshots. And your comments give me relationships to write about- suggestions anyone?


	4. She's so cute-POV Daisy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter than usual. Sorry guys, Im working on it. 
> 
> Daisy thinks the woman from the Magnus institute is absloutly gorgeous. Unfortunately she's too thick to realize Daisy is hitting on her.

February 8th 2016; 7:13

The Beholding woman was gorgeous. Jude had told Daisy that someone from the Eye was coming. The Hunt had never had a problem with the Eye before, they championed the pursuit of knowledge, the Hunt champion in the literal pursuit. The moment the woman had opened the gates Daisy was star struck, the archival assistant was thrumming with the hunt for an answer inside her. Her hair had come down to her shoulders, styled for office work and she wore a calf length black coat over a pantsuit. It was almost horrifying the way she stuttered through the mud conscious of her shoes. The woman pestered Daisy about misfiled paperwork and together a sick shock of revelation turned in their stomachs. A rogue avatar. 

“I’ll report it to Elias immediately,” Basira said, “He’ll inform the other heads of the organizations, they’ll find-”   
“Right now I would argue I am the foremost Hunter in these times,” Daisy rose from her chair, “I must insist that you allow me to break the news to the community so I can better organize an investigation.” She leaned forward, smiling coyly, “I used to be a detective, you know.” Basira brightened, pulling back and completely oblivious to Daisy’s flirting, “Really, me too!” She stood up to shake Daisy’s hand excitedly, “It’s such an honor to meet another Avatar that was on the force.” Daisy shook her head, “Oh, I still am, they employ me to take care of some of their more supernatural problems. I recovered the Buried’s coffin from an american collector.” Basira once again seemed unphased by Daisy’s confession. 

“Well,” she said, “Imagine my surprise, I suppose it shouldn’t be odd for a hunter to be working for the police.” Daisy nodded, “Most of us work in protective lines of duty.” Her eyes flickered back to the Montauks, “Most of us…” Basira shook her head,   
“You would not believe how boring everyone in the Archive is, they’re all research students hired right out of their masters graduation and roughed around until they decide that maybe living off of ramen and microwave dishes isn't an ideal.” Daisy huffed out a laugh, “Why’d Elias hire you then?”   
“God,” Basira grumbled, “I ask him that almost everyday and still he doesn’t respond, just says I was the right fit for my position and then proceeds to just send me on little field trips to negotiate with Avatars. I’m going to be France next week so I’m having a friend of mine, Melanie King, negotiate over some land ownership with the Spiral.” Daisy winced, “You sound busy.”   
“How often do you have to work for your entity?” Daisy shrugged, “Oh I don’t know,” she puffed out her cheeks in thought, looking up to the tree line, “About once a week, nothing as busy as that.” Basira shrugged, “What can you do about it,” she looked up at the tree line and began to admire the flight of the birds as they dove for prey or ran from predators. “It’s very serene here,” Daisy nodded, “I’d love to just spend the rest of my life here with a girl I love.” She looked over to Basira and Basira made no recognition of what Daisy just said. 

“Well I guess it's time to go,” Basira sighed, “I loved coming here, this was great info, I hope you end up catching your beasty or whatever it is.” she shrugged, “God, I’ve got a four hour drive back to London.” She scooped her purse back up and made to leave.   
“Wait,” Daisy called out, the trees stopped their sway and the wind paused for her words, “I was wondering if maybe you’d want to go get a drink sometimes later?”   
“Oh,” Basira said, “No thanks, I’m sorry, I’ve gotta’ raincheck on that one, bit tired right now and I’ve got to pack for my flight to France tomorrow.” It wasn’t a rejection, Daisy could tell, she had been rejected before but this was just Basira rescheduling a business meeting. She pulled her phone out and checked her calendar, “I suppose I’m free on the Twenty-Eight, we can discuss whatever you wanted to discuss then.” Daisy backpedaled, “Oh..” she raised her hands in dismissal, “you know what I just forgot, funniest thing but I forgot I had an appointment with Elias to talk about what..I wanted to..tale about, we don’t have to.” Basira smiled in relief, “Oh thank goodness, I’m sorry but I have a flight to China on the Twenty-Ninth and I was not looking forward to a bar meet and then jet-lag, let me tell you that is not fun.” She giggled, “thank you so much for your time, Daisy. I would love to hear further from you on any other insights you might have for the Archives.” She stood by the stone wall and Daisy opened the portal for her. 

\------  
Since Daisy had suggested drinking she wasn’t one to turn down a date even if it wasn’t with her ideal date. Jude wasn’t happy to be dragged along to a bar in the middle of nowhere England for no fucking reason but Daisy was the only hunter she respected these days.   
“And she’s stylish, I mean seriously she dresses like a goddamn model and she travels everywhere, I mean she’s been to France! Or at least she will be, I’ve only been to Japan and South America, that covers it. She used to be a detective but god she is so oblivious!” Jude pat Daisy’s back causing Daisy’s coat to smolder. Much to Jude’s surprise it did not catch fire.   
“Liste,” she told Daisy, “You should never be with a woman that makes you feel like you can’t measure up, it either means that that bitch is up to something or something’s wrong with you. And I know your confidence in almost airtight-”   
“No when it comes to girls,” Daisy protested, “I just go all blank and stuttery but give me a monster and I’ll get them to confess they’re motives.”   
“You’re a true inspiration,” Jude drawled, “Listen, how about you and I go pick up some girls around Bloomsbury-you’ll distract yourself from the Eye chic and I’ll distract myself Agnes dumping me over a mortal!” She seethed, her finger burning marks into the countertop, “Goddamn monster fucker.” Daisy snickered, rubbing her tired eyes, “I think I’m going to go back to my apartment. Is that alright?” Jude topped off the rest of her drink and shrugged, “I’m not the one who’s wallowing in self pity.”

They parted at the bus stop and Daisy retreated back into her apartment. And scrolled through instagram pictures of people in France hoping to find a familiar face.   
“It’s too early,” she argued with herself, “She’s not going to post anything until tomorrow at least.” She moved to exited the page when she saw a picture of a man holding a tape recorder. He was blurry and out of context but the woman next to him, wrapping a friendly arm around him to get his irritated face to smile for the camera. It was Basira, under the post it read, ‘Saying goodbye to this stormcloud before I head to #France.” Daisy would not follow her, one it would be weird and two Daisy had too much dignity. But she did not find herself above sending the account to a message page she had with her work account. She was above following Basira but she wasn’t above combing through her images and followers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always I'd like to remind everybody that cults can be a harmful toxic environments and I don't wish to romanticize them. Every stay safe and healthy. 
> 
> Your comments help me write special one shots at your request. 
> 
> Your kudos makes these gays painfully thick and oblivious.


	5. The Spiral-POV Gerard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melanie asks Gerard to help her negotiate terms with for a new Eye base on Spiral territory.

Feburary 9, 2016 3:21

The Spiral was in no way to be messed with. Gerard has warned Melanie before she went in but she was determined to go over the terms of a territory contract in Geneva. Why the Spiral wanted influence in Geneva Gerard had no idea, but Melanie would not shut up about the benefits of Geneva being under their influence.   
“I visited there last year for an investigation on a pope’s ghost but god, it is incredibly beautiful, they have the largest pool of international influences, everyone from the entire world has diplomatic ties to Geneva. It’s like a hodgepodge for world wide knowledge.” 

Melanie took Gerard to the British museum. She strolled the public exhibits, refusing to meet Gerard’s eye. They wandered deeper and deeper into the halls of the hallowed building until Gerard stopped Melanie in front of a shard of pottery that looked very similar to the last three shards of pottery they had passed.   
“You got us lost didn’t you?” Melanie smiled to herself and walked over to a door with the word, ‘Maintenance,’ labeled in the center, “Okay, so just before we go in, quick pointer-hold on to my hand at all times.” Gerard raised his brow, “I’m sorry?” Melanie sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, “You’re not anchored to the institute like I am, you’re more of an...informant. The Spiral won’t recognise how important you are to the Eye and will just lose you.” There was no further context for what lose might mean but it terrified Gerard nonetheless. “Any other pointers I should know about?”   
“Just..” Melanie’s eyes flicked up as if in thought, “Just trust me when I say we’re not lost. You might feel like we’re lost but the Spiral respects the Institute too much to lose me, and by extension you.” She grabbed Gerard’s hand and straightened her posture as she leaned in to knock on the door. The knock was no more normal than a regular knock, it was a single rap at the center of the door and yet-and yet when Melanie knocked on the door the handle disappeared and the features started to blur just at the border of what Gerard could see. 

Melanie reached forward and pushed her hand through the door. What was once solid mass became a thin mist for Melanie to walk through, pulling Gerard along behind her. It stung his skin, first Gerard’s arm passed through the wall and all at once Gerard could feel his body start to splinter. The bone snapped into fragments that pushed out of his skin causing his arm to warp. As his body took another shape, unfamiliar and grotesque Gerard found that he felt no pain, just the overall pressure of a dream produced ache that would disappear once he woke up. All he felt was the sting of an unfamiliar environment enveloping his conditioned body suddenly. More of Gerard’s body was consumed until all he could focus on was the way his body had become twisted-the flesh felt intact but-Gerard paled it looked so vivid. For just a moment Gerard could see his normal body under the mist. He looked around and everywhere his gaze fell there was a sheet of mist. Gerard opened his mouth to speak but Melanie cut in,   
“Don’t focus on the mist for too long, trust me. Or else you’ll wake up tomorrow with the biggest migraine of your life. Gerard looked around at their new surroundings. 

This hallway looked exactly the same as the last hallway they were in, only, endless. When Gerard looked for any side of an outside world all he saw was more hallways, even the vast and expansive windows were just walls in between another hallway to explore. Every side on every end there was nothing except the same picture taken repeatedly, carelessly disguised with a filter to discern one hallway from the other. Melanie grasped Gerard by the hand and each hallway they crossed just changed by a fraction of a shade. After what felt like hours of weaving through the same hallway, Gerard’s body twisting evermore the feeling of unease he had felt was washing away. It was at the moment that he felt the waves of unease rolling off of Melanie. Gerard didn’t worry, she had told him to trust her and he would. It was the best way Gerard knew how to spite the Eye without directly hurting Gerard’s own plans. I won’t give it the satisfaction of feeding on my paranoia, Gerard thought. 

Gerard couldn’t feel much worry for anything at that moment, he tilted his head back and bared his neck tiredly. There were no expectations here, there was no overbearing spectre that looked down his neck with an eye of scrutiny, lashing her rage each time the fires began to burn. With a satisfied cry Melanie turned the final corner and the room shifted. Gerard didn’t see it shift he just knew it had shifted and they were on two lanes of existence, the labyrinth from the museum and this new realm of the Spiral. Lounging in the center of an armchair was a figure with no discernable figure. It bled vertigo from his pores, and each tooth possessed a screaming face that clawed for a way out.   
“Melanie,” it crooned, the horror wrapped its influence over the vessel’s vocal chords and tried to work out the right sound. What came out was breathy and high pitched, inhumane.   
“Hello Michael,” Melanie said, gripping Gerard’s hand for reassurance. The blinding lights began to tinge into Gerard’s mind, his thoughts were sharper in here. He focused on the figure in the armchair with a renewed interest. Gerard had never met an agent of Spiral before. Its hair was sheets of gift paper shredded in thin strips that ran out of his scalp, the hands possesed far too many joints and lumps stuck out as if someone had shoved as many bones as they could find into the skin and sealed it to the wrist. The figure leaned forward offering Melanie a place to sit, paying no attention to Gerard. Melanie greeted it again, Michael was their name. 

The picture shifted and they were in a great forest. The oaks twisted, possessing infinite patterns in their wood. Michael sat on a lily pad wearing hundreds of different outfits that all meshed together. It opened their mouth and spoke,   
“You’ve come to discuss the trade for Geneva.”   
“I never said anything about a trade,” Melanie countered, “You know logically that Geneva that works better for us, you’re just worming your way in there on a small stroke.” Michael stuck it’s hooked nose in the air, “Europe is a very confusing thing for many tourists, do you know how many people have fallen to the influence of backstreet markets?” Melanie shook her head, “You must agree that the Spiral and the Eye, while polar opposites, can meet in a middle ground for somethings.” Michael turned away from Melanie, “I’m growing impatient, tell me, who have you brought into my labrinth, an offering.” The words chilled Gerard to the core, he looked frantically back at Melanie. It wouldn’t be the first time the institute had left someone to be consumed by the Spiral to appease them, Gerard had found the file but all the names were redacted under Sasha’s request. 

“Fortunately,” Melania drawled, “the institute has changed their policy on sacrifice to entities that aren’t the Eye. No matter how little of an employee Gerry is he still works for us and therefore is under the protection of the eyes. Besides,” Melanie grinned, “I brought you that puzzler from Berlin last week.” Michael’s teeth seemed to grow more terrified as his smile widened. The picture shifted to a large column of grecian pillars that stretch out in optical illusions, they knitted into one large throne for Michael to sit on. The space between Melanie and Gerard had been turned into a vast chasm. The ground unlocked in small tiles, retracting back until the distance was infinite. The tiles scuttled up to Michael’s throne and slotted themselves at the base discoloring a pale ivory like the corinthian pillar. Gerard looked down and saw Melanie’s disembodied hand in his own. He almost dropped it in shock. 

“You’re the book collector, Leitners’s successor.” Gerard scowled,   
“I’m not Leitners anything,” he drawled, “I just keep the books out of the public's hands, I don’t even touch ‘em myself. I burn as many as I can but they don’t want to go. I’ve only managed five of them so far.” The words came tumbling from Gerard’s mouth, they weren’t pulled out he just found that he wanted to speak, it seemed easier to speak. That took Michael back a bit.   
“You’re surprisingly coherent for your first time here.” Gerard raised a brow, his eyes flicked over the writhing marble that created sculpted print from nothing. “My mind feels much clearer away from the real world, I don’t know why.”   
“Interesting,” Michael hummed, “Must have a pretty shitty life if this place feels right to you.”   
“I didn’t say it felt right,” Gerard snapped back, “I just said it’s clearer. There’s no clutter.” Michael sneered, “You’re not one of them.” Gerard shook his head, “No, I am not.”   
“Good,” Michael decided, “I don’t like any of them. You’re...interesting, small but interesting.” Gerard turned back to where Melanie was shouting, demanding Michael return her to the natural state. But there was no natural state in this pocket of space either. Michael sighed, reaching down to the floor and laying his palm flat against the ground. It flickered and the earth was peeled up, lowered back to Gerard’s side. It slotted in comfortably, even Melanie’s hand fit into place again. 

“Fuck you,” Melanie grumbled, “You can keep fucking Geneva-”   
“Actually, Ms. King I believe you’re right. Geneva would be a more valuable asset to the Eye. Besides, we’ve had our eyes on a church in the Appalachians for a while now. Thank you so much, we’re very happy you could drop by.” Michael waved his disfigured hand and the labyrinth was pulled taut. As Melanie stammered out her thanks Gerard heard a voice whisper in his ear, “I would love to meet you’re collection sometime in the near future.” The Labyrinth’s walls snapped and with a curdling scream of stone scraping stone, they were standing outside the maintenance door. Glaring intently as if it was another artifact put on display. Their hands were clammy, soaked in a cold sweat. “That was weird,” Melanie coughed out. Gerard nodded slowly, he could still feel the condensation of the being’s voice on his ear. It felt wrong as it absorbed back into his skin so Gerard itched. “Let’s get out of here,” he grunted, “I hate museums.” 

The Spiral does not pain people with the unease of being watched, paranoia is such a slow poison. If Michael wanted Gerard insane, he would barely need to flex his finger-the man was already so comfortable in the heart of confusion. No, Michale was aware of Gerard he was always aware but now Michael took a special interest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any comments?


	6. Sorry I'm late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael is fascinated with anyone who can keep a Leitner around and not die a horrible death shorty after obtaining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These next few chapters that involve Gerard will focus on themes of emotional abuse from a mother figure. I do sincerely wish anyone out there grappling with these issues the best of luck.

SIXTH PART   
It had been forty years since the entity known as Michael had seen a Leightner in person. It had been three years since Michael Shelley had seen a Leightner. Neither of them could grasp the idea of a whole collection of said books. Michael followed Gerard out of the museum but stopped at the impasse-his own impasse that is. Gerard was not someone to be toyed with, if this man actively stored Leitners’ than well, Michael would love to see what he could do to an avatar of normal cadence. Besides, Michael was curious about the extent of the man. He had met only two Avatars before that were not attached to any entity. Gerard was by no means a normal avatar and neither was Robert Smirke. But that man had achieved in doing one thing that no one had done before, he had confused all the entities. Muffled their reach in the corridors of his carefully constructed buildings. And the man was repulsed with the idea of interacting with other Avatars. Gerard however had no qualms with any of the normal avatars, interacted with them as far as Michael could tell. It was going to be a very interesting experiment indeed, a little game all for Michael to toy with himself. How far could Gerard go without an entity to back him up? Of course Michael was also determined to make Gerard a claimed Avatar later on-the Spiral didn’t seem to suit him but something about the Eye called to him, or maybe the end. 

It didn’t matter, as soon as Gerard left the museum, Michael had decided he wasn’t going to follow Gerard. No, he was going to let Gerard grow on his own into a being far beyond any mortal and then he was going to watch Gerard come to him begging for whatever Michael could spare. 

None of the other Avatars seemed as thrilled with Michael’s plan, they didn’t told Michael straight forward that they would not give a crap about Gerard unless he was assigned to an actual entity. They were just scared, Michael could tell, they remembered the havoc Smirke had released on them, the pain Mary had caused all by herself unwilling to share with the other’s and all the binding Leitner and Mikaele had placed on the organization. Mikaele was only invited to get togethers because he was willing to sell his objects-there isn't an ounce of morality in that man just like everyone else. But Gerard was new and apparently he was collecting the Leitners to save people. How utterly human, Michael crooned to himself as he watched Gerard escorting a woman in for her statement on the books. 

“He is nobody,” Annabelle Cane told Michael as they sat around a tray of untouched snack foods Jon had laid out. They were visiting Jon’s house to vent, it started back when Jon had first joined and found that he was starting but nothing was working. He had eaten his entire kitchen bare and vomited it all up as he curled, shaking over his toilet. Jon banged against the door to summon Michael, and Annabelle who had been talking to Jon at the time hurried over to explain his strange new diet to Jon. Presently Jon was painting Annabelle’s nails as she and Michael debated over the usefulness of Gerard Keay.   
“You don’t believe that,” Michael told her, “He’d be dead if he was nobody, you take out all characters you truly believe are unnecessary.” Annabelle bristled, “I don’t think any ‘characters’ are unnecessary, everyone is vital in some way but I am saying, to you he should be a nobody.” 

Jon leaned back on his hands, tilting his head to look at Annabelle’s nails,   
“How do we know you’re not just saying that to encourage Michael to get with Gerard and give you further grapple on the Leitners.” Anabelle shrugged, “Oh I am, I am aware of all roads that can be taken and I know exactly how to nudge to favor the road I want but if you so happen to choose the opposite then I predicted it and improvised.” Michael’s twisted grin pulled tighter at his splitting lips and he replied breathily, “Sounds like you’re talking out of your arse, too embarrassed to admit you have no idea what’s going on and you’re just super chill with everything?” Annabelle kicked Michael, watching him sprawl to the floor.   
“Watch it,” Jon protested, “You’re going to smear your nails!” 

Michael than turned the conversation to the new mortal Jon had adopted and Jon had yelled very loudly at Michael throwing a pillow at his head and trying to smother the ever warping grin off Michael’s face while Anabelle cooed about Archive babies which resulted in her nails getting smeared as she tried to pull a feral Jon’s hands off her throat. They fell asleep on top of each other on the couch and they watched Jon read a statement for breakfast and then he followed Anabelle and Michael to help them catch their breakfast. 

But something gnawed at Michael for the remainder of his week. He hadn't noticed it first but when the feeling settled his world view snapped in perspective. Gerard wasn’t visiting the Archives anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, I fell out of listening to podcasts for a while because I was taking time to write additional work for a new fanfic-not related to magnus archives- and to write my own style and method. I went on a complete research binge. If you have noticed that I spelled Leitner wrong, no worries I hadn't seen the word spelled out before but I went back and edited with as little effort as possible.
> 
> As always stay safe, especially now. Scams and cult mentalitie. Can affect people in desperate situations or in isolation, that's what they strive on. So if you ever feel like you may be in danger call the relevant sources around you or research on your own.


	7. ATTENTION!!

This work will be going over a heavy re-write and organization. The prompt will stay the same and the relationships but I would like to switch up the way the story is going. Thank you for your interest in my work, remember to stay safe and that all depictions of cults are purely fictional and are not to be encouraged. The Magnus Archives and its characters do not belong to me. 

Have patience with me, thank you.


End file.
